


Tomorrow Never Knows

by DrownedOutStars



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Bloody Kisses, Bloody Sex, Dark Past, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Gore, Heavy Angst, Heavy tones, Hope ya'll like poetic descriptions, Insanity, Kaydel and Jessika are together, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Kylo Ren Has No Chill, Masochism, Modern Era, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, Oral Sex, Poe and Rose and Finn are a throuple, Rey Has Issues (Star Wars), Rey Needs A Hug, Rey has anger issues, Rey is Not a Palpatine (Star Wars), Rough Sex, Sadism, Severe Trauma, Snoke and Palpatine are dead but mentioned, These are the scary kind of vampires, Too Much Blood, Trauma, Vaginal Fingering, Vampire Bites, Vampire Sex, Vampires, murder murder and more murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:20:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27230356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrownedOutStars/pseuds/DrownedOutStars
Summary: Beginning, end, birth, death, new and old. A cycle that's never supposed to change or really end, but for Rey Niima it ended exactly twenty-six years ago.But what if the beginning to her forever limbo was finally starting?(Title and chapter titles inspired by Tomorrow Never Knows by The Beatles)
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	1. Turn Off Your Mind

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is gonna have sixteen L O N G chapters, so buckle up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beginning, end, birth, death, new and old. A cycle that's never supposed to change or really end, but for Rey Niima it ended exactly twenty-six years ago.
> 
> But what if the beginning to her forever limbo was finally starting?

In the beginning, there is also the end. You cannot start something without ending another. It's an endless cycle of the snake eating its own tail, of the clock forever ticking even without a soul to hear it, and of birth and death and new and old. When a new chapter ends another begins, and so on and so forth. You cannot stop the beginning, and you cannot stop the end. Change is the only constant. It's supposed to be, anyways.

Tonight, it was raining. And as Rey watched the raindrops pelt the concrete outside, her mind was focused on that bittersweet cycle.

Well, that and the noise of Jessika and Kaydel eating like heathens.

They were slurping and sucking like some sort of depraved leeches, and Rey instantly closed her eyes as she bit back a hiss of annoyance. The way it sounded with her eyes closed was equivalent to that of squirrelish rabid vermin chowing down on what sounded to be like their first meal in weeks. It was loud and wet; the room completely dripping with the noise of an uncivilized meal. Grotesque, was one way to simply put it in her mind.

The other noise accompanying their sickening eating, however, was mildly _less_ irritating. Poe, Rose and Finn were quietly murmuring about something in the corner, and the scent of iron hung heavy on their tongues and skin. They had finished their meal together, just like Kaydel and Jessika were currently doing, and yet here Rey stood by the garage opening with little to no blood staining her face. The taste of iron wasn't heavy on her tongue-- in fact, it was barely there. There was no frenzy in her when she fed unlike the others.

And she knew it was because she was alone, and it all came back to that damned cycle again.

The cycle, the quiet murmuring, the sound of feeding and the overwhelming scent of iron soon became too much, and she nearly bent over and screamed at the top of her lungs. She wanted to scream out all the rage, the loneliness, the pain and sacrifice she'd dealt with for the past twenty-six years, and she wanted to scream because that scent of iron never left. Ever. It was always there, lurking and shifting about like a crimson fog. It was as if she was finally falling apart.

As her lips began to part, she felt a pair of arms encircle her closely from behind that ended her scream before it could even begin. The scent of iron was poignant now; grotesquely intoxicating and mindlessly needed. A hand was brought up to her lips and as her tongue darted out and lapped up the source of the scent, only then did her eyes flutter open at the taste and at the sound of Finn chortling softly from behind.

"Hey, little bird," he crooned and Rey almost snapped her jaws and showed off her teeth to him. Almost. But she was far too focused on cleaning his hand perfectly spotless.

"May I ask why you're barely eating?"

At that, she did pull away and almost embarrassingly wiped her mouth with her dark hoodie sleeve. Her movements were frantic and sloppy, like she had just gotten caught for doing something bad, and she whirled around to look up at him with a forced glare.

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," she snapped and, for a "threatening" warning, bared her fangs. In her mind, she looked like a lion. In reality, she looked almost sheepish. It was mostly because of the fact that this was Finn she was speaking to, the first other kind vampire she encountered and he was the one that invited her to even be a part of this family. And she was grateful, yes. Ecstatic, truly!

But everyone was coupled. Everyone was coupled, and she wasn't.

Jessika and Kaydel had been together for almost half a decade now, and Poe and Finn had been together for almost a century (with Rose being added not soon after their eighty-second anniversary), but Rey... Rey had never been coupled up before. Even before Finn had invited her to his family (which was five years ago), no other vampire/vampires had ever found interest in her. And it wasn't entirely their fault, exactly, as she could come off as... tempered and brash, but still. Still. There was still a part of her, in her forced, infectious DNA, that wanted to be wanted.

And she _hated_ that. She hated that unwanted need for touch; for skin upon skin contact. She hated that her body wouldn't let her feed properly without a partner, and that's why her fists were clenched. That's why she was shaking, why her eyes were completely black, and why her fangs were far longer than needed be. Now... now she was a lion, and Finn slowly nodded as he cautiously took a step back.

"Rey," his voice was soft now; satin, almost, and yet as cautious as could be. His eyes read of anxious restlessness and he looked prepared to pounce if she made a single move, and it was silent now except for the sound of the deafening rain. Jessika and Kaydel had stopped eating to look over, and both Poe and Rose looked ready to defend their maker/partner.

Once she realized that she was being perceived as a threat instead of a friend, that rage deflated and the loneliness returned.

"No, I--" her eyes slowly faded back to nothing but pure black irises and she rambled incoherently while making frantic hand motions before groaning and shaking her head. She waved her hand dismissively as she looked away and she closed her eyes yet again as the tension in the cold, abandoned and stained parking garage dissipated. She had the slight urge to snarl then for being emotionally wounded for the short time being, but she didn't. She didn't, but sometimes it was truly hard to ignore her old instincts.

"I'm not starving myself," she spoke calmly as she shoved her stained hands in her hoodie pocket. "I promise." Her onyx eyes flicked back up to Finn's and he slowly nodded once again before glancing towards the body she had made her meal that night. It looked barely touched.

"Rey Niima," Kaydel drawled, her voice echoing in the streaking darkness, "The dark world's first anorexic vampire. How positively _morbid_!" Her shrill laughter echoed behind her words and Rey growled lowly before snapping her head back towards the rain to try and distract herself. She heard Jessika growling out a scolding to her mate and Finn had now gone back to his lovers. He knew not to push her. He learned that the hard way the first time they met. Everyone did.

And, so, the sound of murmuring returned. As did the sound of eating, and the scent of iron only strengthened like it always consistently did. It was as if her almost-threat never happened. And she couldn't be blamed, really, and that's why no one there was going to hold it against her. She was hungry-- ravenous, honestly, and everyone knew that. They just seemed to all ignore as to _why_.

So, the thought of the bittersweet cycle returned to her mind as she fully turned back towards the garage opening. Beginning, end, birth, death, new and old. It all repeated in her head like some odd mantra that wasn't even hers. It was as if it had been placed in her mind somehow, like it was planted there firmly without warning. It felt as if it wasn't hers because simply there was no beginning and end to her life, it was just a constant blur of quickened years and bloody, faceless bodies. There was no birth in her life, she couldn't die, and nothing felt new and everything felt old. The clock had stopped for her, and yet its taunting ticks still echoed in her mind like that of a shattered dream. It was cruelty.

It was times like these that she missed cigarettes and alcohol. An unhealthy coping mechanism, yes, but Rey had never been one to have healthy coping mechanisms. Even in her human life, she rarely made healthy choices for herself. It was always reckless, always non-stop partying and substances to forget the pain of mortality...

She'd rip out her own eyes if it meant she'd ever get to feel that pain again.

Minutes passed that felt like milliseconds and soon she found herself walking amongst her undead family in the dark, wet streets. Rain blared down upon them almost wrathfully and yet no one seemed to mind. In fact, Rose was giggling and being twirled around by Poe, and Jessika was stomping in each and every puddle she came across like a reckless child. It was almost hard not to smile at the adoring group, but Rey didn't really find herself smiling all that often these days.

Lightning cracked the sky and Rose squealed in delight as she clapped excitedly. The rain began to come down even harder, and each and every single one of them either vocally or silently (Rey) rejoiced at the brewing storm. A hurricane, she believed. There was something she saw on some TV in a window about a hurricane.

And as the wind swirled and caused the rain to whip against her face, she began to walk slower as she caught the unfamiliar scent of black pepper in the air. The others didn't seem to scent it, as they were all busy with each other, but she did and she completed halted as the scent grew infuriatingly strong. It made her wrinkle her nose and almost sneeze by the audacity of its strength as she desperately looked around for the source of it.

But there wasn't a person or creature in sight besides her and the others. It was maddening, really; that this strong scent was coming from somewhere very near and whatever the cause of it instantly alerted her basic instincts. Her fangs threatened to lengthen as her nearly all pitch black eyes darted towards the roof of an apartment building, but Finn whistling at her to come back to the group made her snap out of it and rush to him and the others. They walked for a good mile and half, all of the group completely oblivious to where they were going.

But the scent was following them. It was following them, and she was the only one who could smell it, and she almost pawed at Finn's arm like a pathetic, frightened puppy as her eyes darted around frantically. It could be one of _his_ men. It'd been twenty-six years but still, he could've finally found her, finally sniffed her out, finally--

"Oh, fuck," Poe's breathy words jolted her from her paranoid thoughts. "We went too far west."

In front of the halted group, drawn perfectly from corner to corner of the sidewalk, was a faded red line that meant absolutely nothing to humans. But to vampires? To vampires, this meant this part of the city belonged to the notorious New Order and their raging megalomaniac of a leader who Rey never particularly cared enough about to learn the name of.

It was the fancy part of town, too. The part of town with the chrome streetlights and no graffiti or stains anywhere to be seen, and Rey hated that. They all hated that, actually. You weren't allowed to go past the stupid red line unless you were pure of blood or of aristocratic blood or else you'd be scented out and killed for trespassing. Only pompous and ignorant vampires consisted of the New Order, and it was painfully, ironically funny that they staked out the fancy part of the city to be their territory. But it did suck, of course. All of them wanted to at least see what it was like living as one of them at least once... but none of them of would ever admit it, of course.

So, as the rain poured down, they all stared down at it with their onyx eyes glued to the line as unspoken tension began to build in all of their chests. Rose slowly clung to both Finn and Poe and Kaydel and Jessika squeezed each other's hands. Rey was left standing alone and to the side as she stared down at the line, and suddenly the scent became so strong that she had to cover her nose as her eyes ripped away from the line to dart around once more.

And yet, still no one else seemed to be smelling it. Just her. Only her.

"Let's go, yeah?" Jessika cleared her throat quietly and soon everyone was turning around and walking back in the other direction. Rey stayed for a moment as the scent seemed to come from right before her on the other side of the line, and she spit aggressively in its direction before turning around and once more joining the others. As she did, the scent completely vanished.

Getting home happened in the blink of an eye and after a much needed shower, she was curled up in her twin bed listening to the rain hit the roof of her dark and windowless room. She secretly mourned that she couldn't see the rain hitting her non-existent window or see the harsh bright white lightning streak across the sky like flung paint. She bunched the scratchy covers up in her hand as the sound of the wind and rain grew stronger and stronger outside. It was maddening that she couldn't see it.

She lay there for what felt like seconds that she knew to be hours before she felt the warmth of the creeping dawn soak into the walls and wrap around her. She gladly welcomed the warmth, snuggling into it and sighing dreamily as her eyes finally began to flutter close. Her hand grasping the blanket slowly loosened and soon she was nothing but a still corpse dreaming in muted colors.

Well, not muted today.

Her dreams normally consisted of nothing but grey corridors and unopenable doors, but today was different. Today, she was in a vivid green field with nothing but tall green grass for miles around. It was bright and it was clear and it was blue and it was green and it was yellow-- the sun. She was in the sunlight.

"Oh, God," she nearly choked out as she gripped a blade of grass in her fist. It felt so real. She could feel its slick texture, feel the wetness of the early morning dew on her fingertips. And, suddenly, she was crying. She was sobbing hysterically in joy as her head fell forward and her body trembled like an earthquake. It was so warm and bright and colorful and she didn't _deserve_ this-- she didn't deserve a single ounce of this beautiful, beautiful dream and that only made her cry harder.

But, eventually, she forced herself to stop crying and enjoy it while it lasted. Whether it be a few seconds, a few minutes, or a few hours, she was more than determined to spend her time in this sunshine wonderland frolicking amongst the grass and exploring every inch until her eyes inevitably opened.

She instantly ran forward, finding herself screaming in pure joy as she ran with her arms out. Her lips spread into a painful grin, although she wasn't feeling any sort of it due to exhilaration, and she screamed again as she ran faster. She lifted up her dress and bunched it up in her hands as she laughed, and, oh, how wonderful it was to hear the sound of her laughter again in her ears. It was loud and boisterous and wonderful. It was bliss.

But, the moment she saw a white door in the distance, she came to a stuttering halt. A gentle breeze flew by and gently tugged at her brown locks as she stared at it. Everything was silent and still and the only thing that mattered now was this door and what was behind it. So, she ran forward once again.

But the door seemed to be getting farther and farther, and once she did finally reach it after what felt like years (a rare occurrence for her), a red door popped up beside it. And dear, oh dear did the red door reek of nothing but iron and death. It loomed before her like a bloodied soldier weilding a weaponry presence, and the white door floated like an angel who had just received their wings as the scent of something oddly familiar perfumed the air around it.

And yet she felt torn as to which door she should open.

Her hands grabbed both doorknobs and suddenly she was crying again. She was screaming as the doors only got further and further apart. Her arms were being torn out of her sockets, the sound of flesh tearing and bones breaking filling the air, and soon all color faded from the once beautiful field. A rising crescendo pierced the air as it got darker and darker, and just as the doors opened with her severed arms still attached--

Rey nearly woke up screaming. She sat up as fast as she could, her hand flying to her mouth as she resisted the urge to puke. She tried to swallow but her tongue felt swollen and her mouth felt far too dry. There was this bitter taste on her tongue that was sickeningly sour and vile. It was as if death had a taste and it had defiled her mouth with its diseased filth.

The taste, she suddenly realized, was absolute, unadulterated fear.

She slowly sat up as she choked down the rotten bloody vile in her throat and moved to put her feet on the ground, only to stop at the sight of Rose's dark eyes gleaming in the corner. Rey only looked at her tiredly as her fear began to quickly wind down. It was common for Rose to be found in odd places of the house during both night and day, and everyone was basically used to it at this point. Rey didn't even scream the other week when she walked by the kitchen and saw Rose crouching down on one of the cabinets in the pitch black.

So, with the taste of dying fear in her mouth, she sighed and said, "What time is it?"

"Half past eight." Rose responded softly and Rey nodded as she closed her eyes. It was still raining. It wasn't as harsh as it was only hours ago, but the droplets still pitter-pattered and it was almost as if the very rain was trying to lull her back to sleep. But she wouldn't go back to sleep. She wouldn't. She now feared the green field and its red and white door, and as they flashed behind her eyes, her eyes flew open to escape.

Rose suddenly scurried forward like a rampant rat and Rey watched the short young woman climb onto the bed and sit right before her. Rose slightly frowned as she reached her hand out, her fingertips brushing against Rey's hand as their eyes met once more.

"Finn is worried." She whispered and Rey nodded silently.

"I know." She whispered back.

It was all she could say. Here she was, an emotional burden in her tattered mind, and that was all she could say. Not "I'm sorry" or "Please forgive me." No. No. No, it had to be "I know" and that twisted knots in her stomach like no other.

Rose moved closer to her and hesitated before fully grabbing Rey's hands and flipping them over to see her palms. Rey chuckled lightly, as she was once again used to Rose doing odd things, and Rose hummed quietly as her eyes traced the lines in Rey's palms. Her eyes were quick, like that of a predatory bird, and before Rey knew it those predatory eyes were fixated on hers.

"You've been dead for a while now." She murmured before crawling off the bed and scampering out of the room.

Rey blinked owlishly before huffing and glaring at the ground. She knew what Rose meant. She knew what Rose meant, and she hated it. She seemed to hate a lot of things in this relatively new "life." It was as if burning hatred had replaced all other emotions the moment she woke up with black irises and no heartbeat. But no one could blame her. She was made on accident. She was meant to be killed, but by some odd "miracle" survived.

She wished she had died.

Getting dressed and ready for yet another night of hunting was beyond boring, and she soon found herself kicking up puddles and rocks as they walked to find food. No one seemed to notice her sour, exhausted mood, or perhaps they did and just chose not to question her. They probably feared she'd snap on them, and that was a very just fear. Sometimes she couldn't control her old instincts. As the saying goes, "Old habits die hard."

They eventually found food. They eventually heard the muffled screams and the splattering of blood, and eventually the whole air reeked of nothing but iron and death.

How funny that the door in her dream smelled the exact same. How funny that it smelled almost identical to this, and while knowing this life made her miserable, she still wanted to open it. Tragic, really. Pathetic, more likely. Masochistic, truly.

She leaned against the rotting wood wall of the warehouse as the others lost themselves in their frenzy, and her hands slowly found themselves in her frayed hoodie pocket. She wasn't watching them. She refused to watch them, refused to see what her and the others truly were, for her eyes were fixated on nothing other than a large shattered window and watching the rain fall down in its harsh, icy grace.

She wanted to stick her hand out through the jagged shards to feel it, to embrace it in her frozen grasp and see if it actually would turn to ice. She nearly laughed at that thought. It made her think of a child's thought; of how children would pretend they had superpowers. But there wasn't any pretending here, and Rey didn't see the curse as any sort of superpower at all. It was a curse, and that was that.

As she stood there, wishing she could touch the rain, the same identical scent of black pepper hit her like a faulty eighteen-wheeler. It made her whip her head towards the closed garage door and it sparked some deep, unforgotten instincts within her because soon she found herself standing outside and growling like a cat staking its territory.

It was down the street now, still as strong as ever, and without thinking, she began to take a step forward to run.

Only for her hand to be grabbed and Rey looked back to see no one other than Rose. Her mouth and chin were caked in blood; her eyes completely black and the scent of iron clung to her like a ghastly perfume. Her eyes were unblinking, her grip tightening, and Rey didn't know what else to do but hiss lowly in warning.

Rose gently hissed back in a hushed tone before swallowing whatever copper residue was left in her mouth and said, "You can't leave. It's rude."

"I'm not-- I'm not leaving, I'm just--" Rey rambled before hissing again as Rose's nails sunk into her flesh. It was painful and it stung and secretly she loved it, yes, but if she focused on how much she loved it she would only want _more_ and that-- that was something that was too dangerous to tumble into.

"But you were about to run off," Rose tilted her head to the side like an addled owl as her grip loosened, "weren't you?"

"No-- No, no, no, no," Rey forced out a smile and an unbelievably real sounding laugh. She was good at playing pretend. She used to love putting on different acts every night in the beginning. "I wasn't running off, Rose, there's this scent--"

"Scent?" She looked even more like an addled owl at that. She picked her head back up and sniffed the air curiously before frowning. "I'm sorry, Rey, I don't smell anything... Maybe it's a ghost scent?"

"A ghost scent?" Now it was Rey's turn to be the addled owl.

"You know," Rose let go of her wrist. "A scent from your past that sometimes just gets stuck in your nose when you think about it constantly. Like a memory-- A _smell_ -ory!" She grinned, bloody teeth and all, and Rey huffed as she glanced down the street. It was getting faint now... Like something had been watching them and then got spooked off by her running out there. What a cowardice foe.

"...Right," Rey murmured without tearing her eyes away from the end of the street. "I'm sure you're right."

They both eventually returned inside but Rey stayed close to the garage door. She kept her back against it, watching over the others to ensure their safety as they fed. She didn't believe the scent to be a so called "smell-ory" because there was something deep in her gut that told her that it was, in fact, an enemy and that she needed to stay on guard.

A stray arm that had been inhumanely torn off landed at her feet, breaking her thoughts, and she casually nudged it away with her stained sneaker.

The sound of slurping and sucking was the only sound in the air besides the rain, and it was as if she was stuck in the same night on repeat. For five years it's been this. For five years it's been the exact same but with no change comes known security and protection, but with change... Oh, with change there's risk, and there were times where she wanted nothing but risk. But, alas, that was her old life. Change was but a spectral figment in her mind. Change is supposed to be the only constant, the only thing to never, well, _change_ , but in this "life"... Change was but a tragic memory.

And then that cycle entered her head again.

Beginning, end, birth, death, new, old.

It spun around in her brain on repeat like a faulty carnival ride. It made her nauseous almost. There was nothing else-- Just this cycle and its incredibly loud presence.

Beginning, end, birth, death, new, old.

She itched to go outside suddenly, to run after that all-too-quickly fading scent to see what it was and why it was following them because--

Because it was change.

Without even a second thought at the realization, she was gone out of the warehouse and already turning the corner at the end of the slick street. She didn't care if Rose came after her again or if she sent someone else because she _needed_ to find the cause of the scent. She _needed_ to hunt it down and catch it and for once, just once, in her limbo-like life have some feel of some kind of change.

The rain began to pick up and she was back on the scent now. She was running down backstreets and back alleys, jumping over fences and scurrying through backyards, climbing onto roofs and jumping down just to track this scent. She was in a state of some odd frenzy; like a bloodhound just catching the scent of the drug heist of a lifetime. There was excitement building up in her chest until--

Until she found herself standing at the red painted line from yesterday.

It mocked her, the cruel faded ruby. It taunted her and teased her, harassed and poked, and she gave a quiet hiss to it before glancing up at the chrome city before her. Brights lights flashed unwantingly and few cars skidded the streets, their lights ungodly bright and their horns boisterously obnoxious. But besides that... It was still. Quiet.

For a brief second, she nearly stepped over the line. She nearly crossed the forbidden rural threshold and committed the ultimate sin against her family. She let out a shaky breath, something beyond out of her character, before stumbling back and shaking her head as the scent erupted into the air once more.

And then, she saw him.

He was standing on top of a building, all clad in black, and both of each other stared at each other as the rain soaked their bones. His eyes were piercing hers, even from a distance, and suddenly nothing made sense anymore.

It was as if time had stood still all but for a moment. The rain halted, the wind withdrew and the lightning froze in its fluorescent flash. Both life and death paused, and the world was made anew in black fog and ink rain. Everything was black and dark and shadowy and nothing-- _nothing_ prepared her for this moment. Nothing, not in either mortal or immortal, in her life prepared her for this odd feeling of someone's elses smog entering her purely through a gaze.

But just as quick as he appeared, he vanished, and Rey was left both dumbfounded and satisfied when the scent left with him. That was one mystery solved, but it had opened up a whole 'nother.

"N-- No, wait," Rey whispered in an almost frantic tone as she dared to take a step forward once more. "Wh-- Why are you following me...? Us?" She was never one for acting/being nervous or meek, but this situation made her nothing but that. She worried her lower lip as her eyes desperately searched for another glimpse of him, but to no avail. He was gone.

She slowly found herself hugging herself, staring up at the building with those always wary eyes and slowly sinking her nails into the faded cotton. She was aggravated and confused that this other vampire was now suddenly stalking her and her family. They had to be pure of blood or have aristocratic blood and that... That was too weird to fathom on its own. She and the others were nothing but feral rats in the New Order's eyes, so why would this one particular member be stalking a nobody like her? It didn't make sense. At all.

After fifteen minutes, she found herself turning away and walking back to the warehouse. Her hands were in her pockets once more and her head was down, and she would've blended perfectly into the wet black if her skin wasn't as white as a sheet. If there were any humans to pass her, they might think her a floating white head amongst the dripping shadows, but luckily the quiet neighborhood streets were empty and all that accompanied her was the never-ending wind, rain, lightning and thunder.

When she got back, it was as if she had never left. They were still eating, although fresh bodies were now present and the old tossed in various places. The scent of iron was pungent and loud, and, eventually, she found herself back outside as she waited for the others to finish.

She wished she could feel the cold as she tore off her hoodie to reveal an already soaked white tank top. She bent over, putting her hands on her knees as she inhaled deeply through her nose (an unnecessary action but her mind still forgot sometimes) and forced herself to shiver. She hoped that one day she would actually feel a shiver coming on without forcing it to remind herself that she was still human somewhere deep inside. Her humanity was burrowed, but she stayed hopeful that, one day, it would come back up to the surface and destroy all the dark.

The hoodie lay already forgotten by her feet by the time the others came out, and it was left there forgotten as they all ventured back to their home.

Unbeknownst to her, as she lay in bed at home after her shower, her hoodie lay in a wet, black puddle on a sleek black desk in a glass office as the man clad in black stared down at it. Her scent, an icy bittersweet combination of peppermint and vanilla, still clung tightly to the wet garment and it was slowly but surely filling up the room.

But there was something else clinging to her soaked hoodie besides harsh peppermint and sweet vanilla. There was another scent; one of old and one newly, recently forgotten. A scent that he knew to be dead.

He'd try to lure her out again tomorrow.


	2. Relax and Float Downstream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, yes, I have returned! I won't be updating this fic constantly, as I'm still sort of on a break, but this fic has been sitting in my mind for far too long not to write down

"Oi, oi, oi," Poe's voice rang in Rey's ears as she scrubbed viciously at some dark stain on the cream carpet three nights later. She knew it was blood, but how long had it been there exactly? It was almost black with age and she cursed herself excessively for never noticing the damned thing before. After all, stress cleaning was her forte.

And as she continued to scrub, she ignored Poe walking up behind and crouching down beside her. His scent, orange and clove with some hint of faded rich chocolate that eternally made her think of a sunny July day, slammed her in the face and she grumbled silently to herself.

She's always just been so goddamn sensitive to scents.

"Can we talk?" Poe muttered softly and Rey huffed loudly as she scrubbed the stain even harder. She refused to look at his frown or his worried eyes, and she most certainly refused to stop doing what she was doing just to have a chat that she already knew how was going to go. So, she only gave out that one huff.

"Finn is worried--"

"Is he?" She murmured sarcastically. Sometimes she just couldn't hold herself back. She just couldn't hold back her childish, mocking tongue and knots began to tie in her stomach like thorned vines coiling around her bloodless, white internal organs.

"You know he is--"

"Well, he shouldn't be," she huffed again as she threw her rag in the plastic bucket beside her. It splashed loudly and messily into the soapy water. "I'm fine. I've been fine. Everything is great. Peachy. Fantas--"

"Rose thinks it's because you might be... Well," he rubbed the back of his neck almost nervously. "She thinks it's because you're going through a mourning period of your former life."

At that, she did stop and look over at him.

"...Why would I wait twenty-six years to go through a mourning period, Dameron?" She meant to sound more aloof, as if she couldn't give a damn what he or Rose or anyone else thought, but her voice was quiet. Soft. Meek. She was but a mouse trying to wear the mask of a feared predator.

He moved closer to her at that, like the caring corpse he was. He let out a loud sigh as his head fell back and Rey anxiously stared at him to see if she could see his thought process. And it wasn't that she was anxious to see if he believed her or not, as she simply didn't care what he thought, she was anxious because she was waiting for the other vampire's scent to return at any moment. For the past three nights the scent has following them out on their feedings and yet there wasn't a sight of the man to be found.

So, yeah, she wasn't in a mourning period. She was paranoid and it was apparent that this was the one and only emotion of hers they paid attention to.

And it angered her immensely.

"Well, I don't know," he was speaking to her in a tone that one uses with a frightened child, and her anger only bubbled higher. "Maybe some old memories came up or you saw an old friend on the street--"

"I didn't have any friends as a human," she cut him off sharply as she plucked the wet, soapy rag back up from the bucket. It reeked of mildew and rusted, metallic age. "And I haven't had any flashbacks. Rose is wrong." And with that, she began to scrub again.

Poe was silent before his hand abruptly struck out and grabbed her wrist to still her hand. She blinked at that, unaware how to respond to such a potential threat coming from someone who was family. He seemed to catch onto that rather quickly and he let go of her wrist instantaneously. He knew if he had kept his hand there for one more second she would've completely flipped.

"Something is wrong with you and it's driving Finn insane, Rey." Poe murmured dangerously low and Rey found herself flinching for a brief moment before looking away.

"That's not my fault." She whispered back and her stomach tied itself in its usual guilted knots. The words were sour as they left her mouth, like spoiled milk dripping off her tongue, but she found herself repressing a loud gag as he placed his hand on top of hers.

"We want to help you,"

She didn't want to look over. She knew what she'd see.

"Don't you get that?"

"What I 'get', Dameron, is that you and the others, including Finn, are suddenly seeing me as a threat just because I'm not eating--"

"It's not healthy!"

"Why the fuck am I supposed to stay healthy when all I am is a frozen cadaver who will never see the morgue?!" Rey snapped viciously in his face before throwing down the rag after ripping her hand away from his. She felt the entire house go still and she let out an infuriated growl before jumping up to her feet and disappearing out the sliding glass door to the backyard. Once she was out there, Poe winced as he watched her viciously began to tear grass out of the ground as she begun to dig a hole right beside an already existing gaping one.

"Hole thing again?" Kaydel sighed from beside Poe and he grunted quietly in response. Their black eyes watched her dig and dig, mud being thrown into the air carelessly as her hands went further and further into the ground. When thunder struck, she silently screamed into the hole before sitting back and slumping. For the second night in a row, thunder had been her voice.

"Is there perhaps a vampire therapist we could call? Some kind of undead Dr. Phil?" Kaydel asked as she glanced over at Poe and Poe watched Rey flinch. He knew she could hear them, but she remained motionless in her slouched position as rain poured down on her.

He thought she was just sitting there so she could listen to them. When, in reality, Rey was just really, really tired because as soon as she had started to dig, the other vampire's scent hit her directly in the face. It was as if he was somehow surrounding her, watching her. Waiting for her to be alone once more. But she had stuck close to her family these past three nights for that very irritatingly angered fear alone.

"What do you want from me?" Rey ground out in an agitated yet exhausted whisper.

"For you to be fucking normal!" Kaydel shot back at the question unintended for her, and Rey's head snapped towards the sliding glass door as she growled. The scent only intensified (somehow) and she snapped her teeth at the air beside her viciously. Only then did the scent cease.

Once again, he was gone. But she knew he'd only come again. And again. And again. And _again_ , because it's been five solid nights in a row now since his scent first infected her and it seemed as if the infection would never stop. If there was an antidote, she'd do it right away, but there wasn't. It, she assumed, was going to be endless.

"Normality does not exist for our kind." Rey scoffed before throwing a handful of mud into the hole and standing up.

She could only put up with the scent so much longer. The infection needed to be cured. And she hated that she knew what she had to do.

After a much needed shower and as the group went out feeding an hour later, she asked to stay behind much to Finn's visible dismay. She was leaning against the doorway as she stared into her eyes, her right hand pressed against the wooden door as she waited for his answer. His eyes glided over to her hand to see her pale, slim fingers creeping out from the oversized black sweater. If the moon and stars were to disappear and the remaining streetlights went out, he thought she might just glow in the dark.

"Why?" Finn found himself saying and Rey shrugged nonchalantly as her hand slid down.

"I'm not hungry."

"Really?"

"Really."

" _Really_? You don't even want your usual small nibble?"

"Nope." She popped the "P" loudly before shoving both of her hands in her back jean pockets. "Sorry, I'm just not hungry right now."

"Maybe... Maybe you and I can just go feeding alone together then later, yeah? I can stay--"

"No, fucking-- No, Finn," Rey sighed as she placed her hand on his shoulder. "Finn, I'm fine. Go."

He looked... paranoid, almost. His eyes were slightly frantic and his hand kept twitching as if it wanted to move forward and grab her. He looked as if he had something he wanted to say but he just couldn't bring himself to. Perhaps it was some secret or a desperate plea, which she had a feeling what it was, but eventually she could see the defeat etch onto his face and he just nodded silently without meeting her eyes.

"I'm not going to abandon you," she said in a rare gentle tone and his eyes did meet hers at that. "Or them. I just want to rest and try and maybe take a nap or something," she shrugged as she took her hand back. "I don't know. Maybe see if television has gotten any better."

She hoped that the first sentence she said didn't have to turn out to be a lie. If she were to go missing, they would think she abandoned them.

"Then why are your shoes on?" His eyes flicked down to her worn black combat boots and she playfully rolled her eyes with a forced smile that looked to be unbelievably real. She had gotten so good at it. It hurt.

"Because I was thinking of fixing up the backyard. You know, since I dug two holes in it and all. I might even plant some... flowers."

"In a hurricane?"

"I've done stranger things." She forced a laugh that too sounded unbelievably real. It hurt even more. "Now go on, Finn Stormley. Leave me be to do my bizarre bidding."

He laughed and seemed to relax at that, and she felt a wave of much-needed relief wash over her as he ran down the street to the others and they all disappeared from sight. The rain fell, the thunder brewed and the lightning clashed, and the wind howled in her ear to let her know of the dangers she was about to face.

And as much as she wished to not have to face said danger, this just simply couldn't go on any longer. And even though she knew that what she was almost certain she thought she had to do, she knew it needed to be done in order to protect the others and let both them and her keep living peacefully amongst each other-- Well, mostly peacefully.

So, she went back inside and closed the door. She went into the living room, opened up the sliding glass door, sat down in front of it, and waited. And waited. And waited for the scent to return so she could properly chase and catch him this time.

As an exact hour passed in her eternal mental clock, the scent struck and she jumped to her feet and lurched forward.

As she expected, the scent began to run and she was off on a chase.

That damned cycle entered her head again as she hopped over the fence and ran down the familiar wet streets of hardened shadow. It echoed brightly in her mind, like the lightning that ricocheted across the blackened canvas of stormy night, and it pulsated in her veins like liquefied luminescence. It left her inhuman speed with wisps of whitened light that flew behind her like tangled jellyfish tentacles. She was but speed of light.

She heard an unfamiliar sound, suddenly, and she recognized the sound to be her laughter booming amongst the thunder. It was maddened and excited and spiraling with something akin to insanity, but it was _hers_. It was her laugh and it was echoing around her like some forbidden song that had finally been sung in rebellion against the ancient blood soaked gods that now inhabited her life. Life, if you could even call it that.

But, for this split moment, she did feel alive. She could feel her heart aching to beat, aching to rejoice with her vocal cords and limbs. It cried inside of her, but it was not of sorrow. It was of joy. Although it could not beat, it simply rejoiced by existing and it poured its being into the rest of her. And she could feel it. She could feel her heart coursing throughout her, giving her all the courage and pride it very well could...

And as she ran over the faded red line, she swore she could feel it give one single beat; a victory cry of a once mortal drum.

But as she turned the corner of a chrome street after running down it, the scent exploded into nothingness and she nearly tripped over air as she halted in confusion. She blinked rain out of her eyes as she clenched and un-clenched her fists repeatedly in some angered rhythm that fueled the raging orchestra of flames in her mind.

And, so, she waited again.

She was good at waiting. She'd been waiting for years for something like this, something this-- this exciting, this exhilarating in her slow and dull unchanging life. If she had to wait years to encounter him and continue their agitating chase, she would. And she had zero shame in admitting that.

So she waited. And waited. And waited. And soon hunger began to knaw at her, other needs began to arise, and waiting was just logically not up for debate.

Well, it should've been logical.

But to her? Oh, she ignored the hunger and she ignored the logic because _he_ was feeding her all the rage she needed.

The funny thing about rage is that it has an extremely acquired taste. It burns the throat as it rises with red and black spices. It spills out of the mouth as a muddled maroon color that leaves stain after stain, and the burning wetness never leaves once it starts. It builds and builds, the taste becoming horrifyingly immaculate, and soon you're coughing up splatter after splatter of spiced, acidic maroon.

Gone was starvation. Gone was the loneliness and tears and regret and sorrow, for all that remained was rage. Rage, rage, sickening maroon rage.

That very maroon dripped from her lips as she darted forward once the scent came back once more and the chase resumed.

But this chase was rather short-lived as she found herself at a dead-end street with only one large chrome building sitting on the left end. It glittered in the rain as she cautiously approached it, and she could clearly hear loud, booming rock music coming deep from within whatever the building was.

As she got closer, she noticed the door to be red and she froze in front of it as she realized it was the exact one from her dream. The scent of iron and death the same, and it most certainly wielded its weaponry presence like a loaded faulty shotgun. The very entirety of it made her fingers and nose twitch.

It was like standing in front of the gate to Hell.

But Hell was something she had experienced so many times prior, and opening the door was nothing but easy for her hand to do. And as the door of red death creaked open, she found herself staring down a long path of shined pitch black stairs leading down to yet another red door that reeked of death even more so. It should've smelled appealing to her, as all things dead and bloody should smell like roasted Thanksgiving turkey with savory gravy to her kind, but instead it nearly made her gag and choke on its decaying fumes.

But, none the less, she walked inside and let the door close behind her as she silently descended down the practically vibrating staircase. Only then did she realize she wouldn't look like she fit in at all in... whatever this place was.

"Fuck," she murmured as she stopped at said realization. She paused before pulling off her soaked black sweater, revealing an almost satiny looking maroon tank top, and threw it to the side of the stair she was standing on. She quickly and almost frantically combed her fingers through her wet hair to get all the tangles out, and water droplets splashed around her like miniature bombs exploding into the abyss.

She couldn't do anything about being wet, but she sure as hell could try to blend in in order to not be spotted as a "commoner" immediately. All she needed to do was look around, try and find him, and if she couldn't then she would just leave and let the chase continue in the streets.

Now, the only problem was was if there was someone in there that was just as sensitive to scent as she was. If they were, she _would_ be spotted immediately for her muddled, impure scent. So, as she descended down the stairs once more, she prayed to whatever blood soaked gods that looked down upon her that that wouldn't happen.

The second door, just as the one before, was not difficult for her hand to open.

Booming music, laughter and talking and red lights flooded her senses as well as the scent of both dried and fresh blood. She was staring down a long painted black hallway lit up with red LED lights and she could see at the end of the hallway you could turn left and enter where all the noise was coming from.

This third door, though not really so much a door as more as a doorway, was difficult for her to fully approach. For it wasn't her hands that were to do the opening this time, it was her mind and her mind was not as eager as her hands. But she forced herself to, and her hands, the forever greedy things, snatched a black leather jacket that was freshly coated with water droplets off the coat rack by the entrance. As she put it on, her eyes scanned whatever hell she had just willingly walked into.

It was some sort of... erotic dancing club, that was for certain, and it was vastly larger on the inside than the outside. But, of course, there was a vampiric twist. A shower of blood coming from sprinkler vats on the ceiling was being rained down upon a handful of dancers in black lingerie on the three stages. They were laughing and dancing gleefully on poles and on stage as their tongues darted out to collect the crimson nectar and various well-dressed vampire men and women threw blood stained money at them.

To the left was a bar that only had rows upon rows of freshly chilled blood bags pressed up against the red light soaked wall neatly and tidily on black shelves. Waitresses in blood stained and soaked mini white cocktail dresses went around serving fresh blood in shot glasses on trays and some were even sitting in guests' laps and being openly fed on.

All there was was red.

It was a nightmare in the gruesomely pale flesh.

She ran a hand shakily through her hair as she waited for his scent to appear and overpower the others, but it didn't. It didn't, and she was quickly beginning to realize she was but a field mouse in a field of hawks.

But most forget that mice, too, can be quick and sometimes they can hide from the hawks. So her plan for blending in took immediate effect as she slinked through the crowd and tried to keep a normal, casual profile. No one seemed to be looking at her so far, and she was already half-way through the crowd, so that was an immense relief to her annoyingly anxious bones as she tried to find his scent again.

 _He's not here_ , she finally concluded as she got towards the end of the crowd that lead to yet another red door. There were far too many scents in this place alone, and the need to sneeze crept up on her as she got closer and closer to the third red door in this establishment.

Just as she reached her hand out to grab the door handle, a pale hand snatched out and wrapped its long, slender spider leg-like fingers around her wrist. She was but a fly in this moment.

"That room's for VIP, love," a faux kind voice, rich with a sneer posh tone, cooed in her right ear. She kept her eyes forward as she remained perfectly still. Normal. She needed to be normal.

"I'm visiting," she cooly lied. "From Britain. Ipswich."

"Oh? I don't recognize you from the Britain area."

_Shit. Have to go now. Right now._

"I mainly keep to myself," she tried her best not to snap. She didn't like to be touched by people she didn't know. No one does, really, but to Rey it sets off an almost trigger-like response to fight. "I'm just visiting a friend here. Sorry."

"A friend?" His grip tightened, and yet she still refused to look at him. "What's the name of your friend?"

"I--"

Before she could continue, his hand jerked away as she heard some sort of low mumbling in what could only be a Bluetooth headphone in his ear. He murmured back, "You must be joking," and "Ren, you can't be serious," before hissing quietly under his breath and vanishing just as quickly as he had appeared.

Ren, Ren, Ren... Why did that name sound so familiar? She tried to think of why the name sounded so exactly familiar but that question vanished as she promptly went back the way she came. She didn't notice the small crowd of vampires watching her run down the red soaked hallway, she didn't notice her sweater missing as she ran up the stairs and she most certainly didn't notice that the main red door was swung open as she ran out of it back to the street.

The rain, Lord bless it, was still pelting the grounds. Lightning still struck and thunder still rolled. The storm was but beginning.

She didn't take any time to run away as far as she could possibly could from the hellish club.

And then that name returned as she ducked into an alley near the coast of the city.

 _I swear to God I've heard that name before_ , her mind whirled as she licked the water off her lips. Hungry. She was still hungry, and only now did she remember that. _But not more than once or twice, I don't think. I heard it... a very long time ago; when I was first created. I heard it in some underground blood bar in New York... twenty-five years ago? The second time... The second time was..._

"Finn," she breathed out and closed her eyes as she pressed her back against the drenched alley wall. Unsurprisingly, the alley wall was just as pristine as the rest of the city. "Finn said it. Five years ago. First night we met."

She had a talent for remembering things and places in her living death, especially face to face conversations, but sometimes... Sometimes she had to focus all her energy on one specific one to remember all the fine details.

So, she did just that.

_Finn was sitting across from her on her dingy, dirty carpet as she nervously fumbled with her dwindling sweater. The apartment was cramped, unkempt, and she felt ashamed that it was hers. He was watching her, analyzing her, and she knew that. She knew that._

_"Where are you from?" The questions began._

_"Born in Ipswich, moved to London when I was six," she murmured as she cautiously looked into his rage-filled eyes. She didn't trust eyes. Never did. "I came to America on a birthday trip for one of my friends when I was nineteen in 1994. I 'died' here, in America, and I never... went back."_

_"Are you a part of the First Order?"_

_"The First-- I'm sorry, I don't know who that--"_

_"Are you sworn to Lord Kylo Ren?"_

_"Okay, I'm sorry, but who the_ fuck _is Kylo Ren?" Rey scoffed loudly as her face twisted in confused disgust, and only then did the anger in his eyes cease._

_"You don't know who Kylo Ren is?"_

_"No?"_

_"He's the leader of the First Order, Rey."_

As the scent slammed her senses, her eyes flew open to find themselves staring into his.

And so the smog streamed.


	3. It Is Not Dying, It Is Not Dying

The definition of smog in Webster's Dictionary is a fog made heavier and darker by smoke and chemical fumes-- In other words; intense air pollution. And air pollution makes it hard to breathe. It makes everything thick and harsh, heavy and uninhabitable. It makes an eternal toxic night in which the stars are cruelly snuffed out. It makes a world that was once something, absolutely nothing. It is a bringer of a tragic end.

And what an end he was.

His hair, black as the very sky, clung to his skull and stuck to his neck like drenched leeches craving to consume him. Beauty marks like that of a unique, one-of-a-kind constellation dotted his inhumanly pale face and an aquiline nose sat perfectly where it should. He was tall, broad; a dead, ashen tree with the grace of harsh winter. He looked aristocratic, held himself like one as well, and his smog streamed and streamed into her gaping irises.

He's dangerous, and she can tell by the dark energy creeping around him like poisonous fog tendrils. He's minacious with his silken shadow appearance, he's minatory simply with a gaze and he's baleful with his smirk.

It all came back to the breathing as he leaned down closer.

Rey hadn't needed to breathe for almost three decades now, and yet right now all she wanted to do was breathe as she stared up into his eyes. His dark, dark eyes in which she could see herself falling down, down, down into the inky depths of Death's impatient bony hands. He was simply constricting her with just his presence.

Her chest was tight and aching with an incessant sharp pain as her mind struggled to form an escape plan. The world begin to spin as his scent clouded her senses, and she found herself wanting to cough as he leaned down and placed his hand beside her head.

"Who made you?"

His tone fit his face. It was dark and masculine with an underlying hint of already-known-to-her danger. It melted into the storm and into the shadows. It slid down her body, snaking its way under her skin, and she felt the urge to shudder as he leaned in even closer. She could feel Death stroke her hair as he did so. Would they both have her, she wondered? Would her corpse be shared in both pride and sick, mutilated satisfaction?

"I'll ask one more time," he smiled, breaking her thoughts like the luminous demon he was, and his smile was white as false heaven could be. "Who made you?"

It took her all but a second to find her voice in the forever storm.

"I don't know."

It was the truth. She didn't know. All she remembered about that night was twitching and bleeding out as someone fed on the spurting hole in her neck. She also remembered seeing her friend's dead-eyed corpse staring straight at her ten feet away. Her head had barely been on. Everything was red. Everything smelled like iron.

This man smelled like iron, too.

His smile didn't disappear at her response. In fact, it didn't disappear at all. It remained eerily still as his eyes bore into her ashen soul. Lightning flashed again, making him look deranged for a split second.

It was the only second she needed to feel a ghostly echo in her chest for the second time that night.

"You don't know?" He sounded too happy. It sounded too false. Yet it sounded so _genuine_ at the same time. It was as if his very voice was a smiling mask fabricated to lure her into its sickly sweet web. It scared her. It terrified her. It horrified her.

It exhilarated her.

"No," her voice was so quiet amongst the howling winds. "I don't."

"Well, that's an issue, isn't it?" Proud, this man wore himself. So, so proud.

"Is it?"

"I just told you it was."

"And that makes it just?"

He looked as if he wanted to laugh.

"Do you know who I am?"

"...Yes."

At that, Kylo's smile grew wider like the visible predator he was as he said, "Come with me."

It was wolfish and sharp, his smile was, and his voice was but the deep growl in a wolf's starved belly. It made something inside of her twitch. Just a twitch, really. A flutter. A small commotion in the pit of her stomach. The sensation of it resembled that to, in her mind, of a butterfly's wing grazing against a rusted, jagged chain fence.

She wondered in sick curiosity what would happen if she were to fully let the butterfly's wings be torn through.

"Why?" She asked as she found her voice once more and he stared at her in complete silence before barking out a laugh. It made her jump, and she nearly bit her tongue for punishment for doing such a human act. She wouldn't admit it out loud, but all she felt for a few moments was pure shame.

"Because I asked." He pulled back at that, turned around, and began to walk out of the alley. She blinked owlishly as she tried to comprehend what exactly was happening, and she didn't realize she was moving until she was walking right behind him.

"Why...?" She asked again, much slower this time, but he remained silent as the rain continued to pour down onto them. She was silent for a moment as she waited for him to respond, but eventually she grew tired of waiting and ran in front of him before skidding to a halt and whirling around. As she saw his face, she realized he looked... almost amused as he stopped walking. Like he was enjoying her frustration and confusion.

The twitch then became a tug.

"'Why' what?" He drawled out, like it was all some fun, silly game. His eyes told her that he found this, indeed, comedic. The very sight of her in emotional ribbons looked to be the best comedy act he'd seen in ages. He. Just. Couldn't. Stop. Smiling.

"Why everything!"

"Details, please." His tone was but a delighted hum.

She nearly screamed at that. She nearly ripped her hair out and screeched at the top of her lungs like a rabid lunatic, but all she did was stare at him in disgusted disbelief. Yes, he was beautiful. Yes, he was much higher up than her. Yes, he could easily have her killed. But him asking that when he damn well knew what she meant made her want to vomit in horrified distaste.

So, once again, her old habits crept out and took her tattered reigns.

"You know absolutely damn well what I mean!" She snapped wildly as her fangs fully extended and her eyes became completely black. As she did, he only looked more amused, and that set off a bomb in her like no other.

" _You know absolutely damn well what I mean_!" She repeated, though this time a scream, and his smile did falter then. It faltered, like muddled, rippling watercolor, and something dark took its place. Something twisted and sick flickered over his marble face, something manic and unhinged, and Rey automatically jumped back with wide eyes. Her eyes returned and her fangs retracted, and she once again felt shame.

_Predator_ , her instincts whispered as the thunder boomed and the wind whistled in agreement. _Pale devil draped in silken flesh lies. He'll eat us whole._

"I will once again repeat what I said to you but not three minutes prior," he sighed before rushing forward much to her surprise and grabbing her wrist. Before she could even protest, he was pulling her forward and dragging her down the street at his pace as he finished sharply with, "Come with me."

The tug inside her chest then became a tearing, a ripping, and that sick curiosity from before was sated as her butterfly wings floated down to the ground. They melted into the pavement, sizzling and popping until absolutely nothing else remained.

It was _exhilarating_. It made all the unnecessary air in her dead lungs dissipate.

As he glanced down at her, her universe was completely annihilated. He had broken everything with just a look, just a gaze. It made her earth crack and her skies fall. It made all of her stars, planets, moons and galaxies explode and crumble to absolute nothing. Kylo Ren was a merciless Titan and she but Tartarus in ruins. He was the end. She was sure of it.

He was silent for the rest of the walk, and she followed in his silence. She'd glance around every now and again to look at the magnificent chrome structures and perfectly clean streets, and then she'd catch him looking down at her. She'd catch him, and he'd look away as if nothing had ever happened in the first place.

She caught him looking fifteen times before they reached their destination.

The destination was an office building of some type with a glistening red entrance door. _All doors seemed to be red here, apparently_ , she thought as she entered along side with him into a sleek, expensive looking lobby. The place was empty, which she supposed was both fortunate and unfortunate, but was it ever beautiful.

The ceiling was paved with shimmering tinted glass that made the night storm look to be a moving painting. The glass was rimmed with thick black panes, and in Rey's eye those panes looked to be part of the sky; they were just missing the impenetrable wetness.

The walls were painted matte black with silver detailing near the ceiling, and a large balcony holding a long hallway snaked its way across the left wall. A chrome opening sat largely in the lobby, looking to be the host of a large conference room, and that, too, was soaked in black. Silver metal decorations littered the walls and there were silver metal archways and pillars. The floor was black marble, not a speck to be seen, and large potted red flower plants were put perfectly in places such as the front desk and near all of the archways and entrances.

It was one of the nicest buildings she had ever been in in her life.

As he led her to a glass elevator through one of the archways, he finally let go of her wrist once the elevator doors closed. He leaned back against the glass wall with a soft, far too soft, sigh before closing his eyes.

And the silence continued.

It was a dastardly thing, this silence. It made her shift from one foot to the other and fiddle with the zipper on the leather jacket. It made her worry her lower lip and it made her eyes dart around and her limbs twitch. And as each pristine floor passed in her vision, the silence grew harsher and harsher until she could bare it no longer.

"I can't be long," she blurted out and he slowly opened his eyes as she just as frantically continued, "I have to get back to my family. I need to be there when they get back from eating."

"Oh?" He said as he turned his head to look over at her.

"Mm-hmm," she felt the need to scratch her neck until it bled. Something itched. Something _burned_. "I do. I do, I do, I do."

"What do you think will happen if you don't get back in time?"

"I--" another floor passed. "I... don't want to know."

"Mmn," he hummed as he looked back forward. "I know what will happen. And I know you do, too."

A heartbroken, frightened scream rattled the dust of her collapsed inner universe as her head snapped towards him.

"You know nothing." And with that, she snapped her head back forward and shoved her hands into the jacket pockets. She swore she heard the ghostly echo of his laughter but the elevator doors opened and he was once again leading her down a hall. This floor's halls' floors were a vivid red, a rather bold choice in her mind, but the walls were still completely black. Everything was just black, red and silver. There wasn't a splash of other color to be found.

It was actually quite fitting.

As they walked down a particular hall that was much wider than the others, he stopped in front of two large red office doors and turned to look down at her.

"You are by far the most difficult creature to lure that I've ever encountered."

Before she could even respond to his unsettling comment, but it wasn't as unsettling as the sight she saw on his desk when she walked in behind him.

Seeing both her hoodie and sweater freshly dried and folded on his desk was creepy, to say the least. He was leaning against the desk next to them, his large hand on top of them in an almost subtle possessive way, and the entire glass office was silent as their gaze remained unbroken as it had for two minutes now.

Her hands were still by her side as the silence continued; water dripping off of the end of her fingertips and tarnishing the pearly red floor. And yet he did not seem to be bothered by her and her soaked, frizzy appearance, just as he seemed to be unbothered by his. This man of silk shadow and pale drenched moon was oblivious to the small, miniature lakes forming on that pearly marble floor from her still, waiting hands. He was just looking at her. Only her.

And his smog was still, of course, everlasting.

He put a finger to his plush lips before breathing out an unexpected laugh as he took his hand away from his mouth to speak, "You know, I was quite perplexed the first time I caught eye of you. I believe it was the scent of absolute starvation that lured me to you. I thought that perhaps a newborn was dying in the streets."

"And you wanted to help it?" She asked without a hint of emotion. Yet on the inside, all there was was emotion after emotion after emotion.

"I wanted to put it out of its misery." He smirked and she silently clenched her fists before un-clenching them and becoming perfectly still once more. Lightning suddenly coated the room and, in her eyes, he was but a glowing devil with a grin of daggers.

If he wanted her to respond to that, she wasn't going to, and he finally caught onto that after a solid minute of silence. He cleared his throat quietly as he pushed himself off of his desk and she fought the urge to flinch as he took a step forward. The shame came flooding back.

He stilled at her flinching. "Hux told me you were from Ipswich? Is that true?"

_Hux? Does he mean the man from the club?_ "I was born there, yes. Moved to London when I was six."

"Why?"

"My parents died in a car crash six months before my sixth birthday."

"Were you in the car?"

"...Yes."

"And how is that you survived and they didn't?"

"...Doctors said it was God."

Then he had the nerve to laugh. It was a cold thing, his laugh was; icy and frozen with years upon years of malicious mockery. It cut into her like jagged icicles and she nearly choked as she felt one of those metaphorical icicles pierce her throat. In her mind, she was certain she could feel her chest and neck being soaked by her own blood. She could feel the hideous wet on her skin; he had wounded her simply with a laugh.

And she both loved and hated it.

"Humans are quite humorous, aren't they? When they don't have a good explanation for anything they just point in God's direction." He chuckled as he walked over to one of the walls to peer out at the dripping skyline.

Rey remained right where she was as he spoke once more, "You are probably the most difficult woman I have ever met."

Twice he had described her as difficult now. Would he do it again?

"Am I?" She murmured as she absentmindedly swallowed around the non-existent icicle that was still impaled in her throat. He had wounded her, yes, but intoxicating hurt was turning into something far more sinister: rage. It boiled within her; hot lava licking her insides and bubbling up to her throat. Soon, the icicle was melted and flames were begging to spew from her mouth.

"Oh, yes," he sounded disgustingly delighted as he continued to look forward. There was some sick part of her that wanted him to look at her again. "You most certainly are. It's taken me five nights in a row to get you to cross the line so I can properly meet you, and not but twenty minutes into crossing over said line you almost get executed in Phasma's club. So, yes. You're very difficult."

"Is this the part where I'm supposed to apologize?"

"I'd love an apology, actually," he fully turned towards her with a much-too-kind grin. "Are you offering? Because you have absolutely no idea how annoyingly tedious chasing you around in the suburbs has been."

"You never had to chase me--"

"But I did," he began to walk towards her then; slowly and casually like a lazy snake. "And now we're here, aren't we?" He grinned wickedly as he got closer and closer, and yet Rey felt immobile. Stiff. Paralyzed. It was as if this snake had already injected her with its venom.

"But _why_?" She asked almost desperately as he stood in front of her now. Her eyes were just as pleadingly desperate, like that of a frightened newborn doe begging to be told how to live. She nearly reached out and grabbed the soaked collar of his suit jacket to scream out the question in an even more desperate tone, but she didn't. She didn't and now they were in the same exact position they were in in the alley.

Kylo pressed his palm against the wall as he leaned down to her level, and she nearly whimpered out loud as both his gaze and his scent twisted deeper and deeper into her soul. He was slowly leaning closer, taking his precious time until his lips were right beside her ear.

"I need to know who made you, Rey." He whispered huskily and Rey audibly gave out a mini whine before screwing her eyes shut and then re-opening them.

_He knows my name. I'm dying. I'm dying, he's killing me. He's killing me! I'm dying!_

"I-I told you I don't know," she stuttered out as her vision began to blur and spin. She felt incredibly nauseous, suddenly, and her stomach began to burn and burn until nothing but acidic bone and shameful, charred ashes remained.

And he was seeming to notice this. Diligently so.

"Hey," he grabbed her chin suddenly as he pulled his head back and she choked on non-existent chemicals. His eyes searched hers for a brief second before he cursed under his breath and let go of her chin-- No. No, not "let go". It was more as if his hand slid away from her skin, like it almost didn't want to leave. Like it was wordlessly begging to stay on her dead flesh.

By her side, her left hand twitched in silent agreement.

"You're starving," He announced after another second and she blinked away invisible tears. "And it's your fault for being so. Go eat."

"What?" She croaked out in a high-pitched tone and he looked as if he was holding back secret laughter.

"You're starving, and it's your fault for being so. Go. Eat," he then had the absolute audacity to nudge (nudge is incredibly important here, as she could think of no other to describe it, because she expected a harsh push) her towards the doors. "And then come back tomorrow night when you're in a healthy enough state to have an intelligent conversation."

"I can't."

As the words flew from her mouth without her intention, thunder struck and the lights went completely out.

In the true dark, they both looked monstrous. They were but two monsters, one stubborn and the other demanding, looking at each other as rain deafened the thick air. Poisonous, infuriating smog, he was. A world begging to be ruined with calamitous change, she was.

And the tragic part was that she willingly knew that.

"You... can't?" For the very first time that night, he sounded confused. He sounded as if he had just heard the absolute strangest news in the world, and she didn't blame him. Vampires were known to be ravenous, blood drenched creatures that only know of consuming until the last drop. They were known to be gluttonous at times, greedy almost always, but Rey had never been... greedy or gluttonous from the start. She, before this strange period, had always just had one body and maybe two if she was feeling snacky. But that was it.

And she knew it all wired down to the stupid infectious DNA that had been forced into her very code twenty-six years ago.

"No," she tried to sound calm; sturdy, "I can't."

"...Excuse me?" He sounded even more confused now, possibly even a little agitated. Why he was getting frustrated in her being unable to eat, she didn't know, but he was. Visibly. How strangely beautiful his eyes looked with anger rising in them; their black flames that of Ceberus' bark.

_Lie. For God's sake, lie. Lie!_ Her instincts screamed suddenly and she winced as she rushed out with, "Y-You know what? I was just kidding. I'm going to go eat right now... and then--"

"Meet me tomorrow night?" He finished for her and she hesitated before slowly and silently nodding, and while she did, their eye contact never broke.

Three more light flickers before the lights popped back on and his grin returned. He could change masks so easily. She was almost jealous.

"Splendid," he purred out before nudging her towards the doors once more. "Off you go now. Scamper away like the difficult rabbit you are."

Four times. Four times he has described her as "difficult." Four.

"Rabbit," she breathed out with an exhausted, small smile. "Out of all the vermin you could've called me, you went with rabbit. I would've thought a rat."

"You're much too quick for a rat," he said as he nudged her towards the door yet again. He was incredibly insistent on her eating for some odd reason. "A rabbit fits much better. So, run, rabbit. Run."

He didn't need to nudge her again, and she was across the red line and running back home in the blink of an eye. She nearly tripped a handful of times, but she finally made it back and locked herself in her bedroom as hastily as possible. As her shaky fingers drew back from her bedroom door lock, she let out a breathy sigh as she tiredly sank to the floor.

As she fell to her side, her eyes fluttered close and a wheeze of a breath tumbled from her lips. She paused for a moment before laughing in a hollow, emotionless tone and rolled over on her back.

"Run, rabbit, run," she whispered to the dark before laughing again and opening her eyes. "Run..."

The funny part was that she had been running for twenty-six years. For twenty-six years it's been nothing _but_ running. Running from problems, people, situations... everything. She'd been running from everything. So, it was hilarious (to her) that he had told her to run when, for the first time in nearly three decades, she had completely halted in her tracks and was finally letting the dust settle around her.

And that dust was black as night. That dust was him.

At that thought, she bolted up into a sitting position with wide eyes at an insane realization.

She wanted to eat.


End file.
